Silver Glass
by SparrowLass
Summary: After Nargothrond, Curufin broods and has a rather loud encounter with Maedhros, and perhaps in the end, he learns something of himself


Title: Silver Glass

Author: SparrowLass

Disclaimer: The Silmarillion and all of its lovely, wonderful characters do not belong to me. They are Tolkien's and I'm just attempting to fill in some of the gaps he left with my own interpretations.

A/N: Well it's been a long time, but here's my second Sil fic that I've finally written. A while ago I wrote Brother Mine, the Curufin/Celegorm story, though it was under a different name, but then I was sidetracked for a time by the lovely Captain Jack Sparrow. Now I'm back, though, with another Curufin piece. I really need to stop obsessing over the House of Feanor. It's not healthy. But I just think there is more to Curufin's character, so I've tried to show some different aspects of him here. Reviews most welcome! And since I'm posting this at midnight Pacific Time, _Happy New Year_ to everyone! Have fun, be safe.

            Curufin was not in a good mood. No, that was an understatement. He was in an absolutely foul mood. Not that he often had cause to feel more pleasantly, but at this moment he felt like throwing something. Scowling, he took a sip of wine from his glass, staring unseeingly into the fire. A particularly irksome thought crossed his mind, deepening his scowl, and his hand clenched around the glass more firmly than he it meant to. It shattered under his hand and he leapt up with a curse as the red liquid sprayed over his tunic, which fortunately was dark blue at the moment so the wine would not stain. 

Wincing at the sharp pain in his hand, he moved away from the shards of glass which littered the floor, glinting in the firelight like fallen stars. Crouching near the fire, he cradled the injured hand with his other, inspecting the damage. Bits of glass were stuck in his palm and he commenced to pick them out, watching with a bit of morbid fascination as the blood trickled in many small rivulets from the various wounds. One larger shard of glass was thrust particularly deep and he grimaced as he caught hold of it with his finger tips and swiftly yanked it out. Tossing the bloodied glass to lie with the rest of the shattered cup, he remained crouched by fire, watching as Elven healing set in and some of the more superficial wounds closed before his eyes. 

            Watching his own wounds heal brought to mind other more grievous ones that he himself had inflicted on others. Eyes shadowed, he watched the trickles of blood slow and stop as the injuries clotted, the red blood bringing his thoughts back to the shores of Alqualonde. All the death, so much pain, and Curufin realized that this hand was the same one that had been hurt that fateful day. One of the Teleri had come up on his left, wielding a long dagger, but Curufin was already occupied fighting another Elf and unable to bring his sword over to defend himself, he had blocked the clumsy blow with his forearm. The dagger had sliced from the top of his palm to his elbow, leaving a line of fiery pain in its wake. Fortunately before the Teleri could attempt a second strike, Celegorm had come to Curufin's aid and quickly slain the ill-experienced Elf. Curufin had quickly dispatched his other opponent and the two had continued making their way to the swan ships.

            Curufin still remembered the panic he had felt as he examined his injury once they were safely on the ships. He had never felt pain like this before. He had been terrified that his hand was crippled and he would never again be able to work at the forge, never be able to craft anything again. Fortunately, though, it was only a deep flesh wound and the dagger had missed cutting the tendons in his wrist. 

            Not that he had much time to forge anything beyond weapons of war, Curufin thought with a touch of bitterness. He wondered if he was even still capable of crafting things of beauty.

            Curufin told himself that he did not regret the swearing of the Oath, did not regret what the son of Feanor had to do to accomplish the recovery of the Silmarils. Yet when his mind walked the dream paths, he saw metal and blood and tears and he screamed and pleaded but no one answered and he was suffocated by darkness. He had not truly rested in years, many long years of toil.

            A knock on the door brought him out of his thoughts and he swiftly got to his feet, body tensing.

            "Yes?" he called tersely. "Who is it?"

            "Saeros, my lord," a voice said. "I was sent to inform you that the evening meal is being served in the dining hall."

            Curufin relaxed. Good. It was not Maedhros. He knew his eldest brother would soon come to him and he was not looking forward to the encounter.

            "I am not hungry," he said shortly.

            He listened to the footsteps fade away as Saeros moved down the corridor, and then he sank into a chair by the fire, his thoughts once more turning to the reason for his foul mood. His impending encounter with Maedhros. He knew he couldn't tell Maedhros the unvarnished truth about what had occurred in Nargothrond. The wrath of the copper-haired Elf would be terrible and Curufin had no wish to arouse his rage.

            Reflecting on recent events, though, Curufin's own temper was aroused. Damn to the depths that impudent, upstart mortal! Curufin's hand went to his side where Angrist had once hung and he clenched his fist in rage. That knife had been his most valued possession for it could cleave iron as if it were green wood and there was no other like it. That Man had stolen his knife and humiliated him as no other had before. Curufin had struck the mortal's heart with an arrow, but he doubted the man was dead. Was not Luthien the daughter of a Maia?

            Shifting restlessly, Curufin rose from his chair and strode to the window of his room, looking out as twilight stole upon the land and the sky darkened to night. Stars slowly began to appear, glowing in the heavens like gems upon the shores of Valinor. Their cold light shone down upon the stones of Himring and Curufin closed his eyes to better feel their cool caress upon his skin. The same stars shone upon Nargothrond and Curufin allowed himself a moment of sentimentality, imagining that his son stood too in the starlight.

            _Ah, my son_, Curufin thought, feeling a burning behind his eyelids as warm tears threatened to spill over. 

            He had lost the only thing in this forsaken land that was truly dear to him, his only child. Curufin had initially been furious when he learned of his son's plans to remain in Nargothrond and they had exchanged heated words, Curufin accusing him of being a coward and a traitor to his House. Celebrimbor, though, had remained firm and Curufin was forced to leave without him. Now, though, Curufin's heart ached with sorrow and he wept inside for the loss of his son, for he had Seen that they would never meet again within the circles of this world.

            "What do you want?" Curufin said abruptly.

            Maedhros silently came up and stood slightly behind Curufin's right shoulder, following his younger brother's gaze out into the night. Neither moved nor spoke for several minutes before Maedhros sighed heavily and said, "Why are you here, Curufin?"

            Curufin stiffened slightly but made no reply. Maedhros scrutinized him closely, watching his face for any betraying expression, but Curufin was as a statue carved from stone.

            "Why have you come here from Nargothrond?" Maedhros persisted. "Has our cousin tired of your company?"

            Curufin's mouth curved into an ironic smirk. "You could say that."

            Maedhros bit back a frustrated groan. He could tell Curufin was in a very reticent mood and it would take great effort to pry anything from his younger brother.

            "Celegorm mentioned that you were attacked and bested by a mortal," Maedhros said casually.

            His eyes slid down to Curufin's side. "And where is Angrist?"

            _Touched a nerve I see_, Maedhros thought as Curufin's teeth bared in a snarl.

            "He stole Angrist!" Curufin growled. "My horse and gear as well. He was not alone, though. That demon child of Thingol's was with him and I doubt not that she aided his attempt with her powers."

            "I see," Maedhros said slowly, "yet that still does not explain why you left Nargothrond."

            "What matter is it to you?" Curufin said coldly.

            "It is of great matter to me," Maedhros returned just as coldly, "and you will tell me or I will prise it from your mind."

            Curufin trapped a gasp of shock behind his teeth and turned a slightly wide-eyed look on his brother. He would dare such a thing?

            Catching his look, Maedhros smiled grimly. "I would do it, little brother, for I sense that the information you have to impart will impact me greatly and I will have it."

            Curufin glared at him belligerently. "Why not ask Celegorm? He will tell you."

            "After our first conversation, he has somehow managed to avoid me all day," Maedhros said with a slight smile, "and I must confess it has greatly piqued my curiosity. What cause would he have for doing that?"

Curufin silently cursed Celegorm for arousing Maedhros's suspicion, but his older brother was looking at him impatiently, so Curufin grudgingly began his tale. He explained how Finrod had thought to risk all Nargothrond simply to fulfill an oath he had once made to a mortal Man and how because of that, the people of Nargothrond had turned against the king. They then turned to the sons of Feanor for leadership, though Orodreth had been named Steward. Orodreth was, of course, jealous of the power wielded by the Feanorians and when news of Finrod's death reached Nargothrond, he used the people's grief to turn them against the sons of Feanor and cast the brothers out. Before their exile from Nargothrond, however, the brothers had come upon the maiden Luthien, and being struck by her beauty, Celegorm had taken her back to Nargothrond and held her there, intending to ask Thingol for her hand. Celegorm's treacherous hound, though, had helped her to escape, and she fled back to her mortal lover.

            "After we were cast from Nargothrond, we came upon them in the wilderness," Curufin said, mouth twisting into a sneer at the memory, "and Celegorm was rightly angered at the mortal for daring to think he could wed one of Elf-kind. For that and for Celegorm's injured honor, we tried to slay the mortal, but Thingol's daughter aided him with her powers and we were forced to flee, arriving here at Himring yesterday."

            Finished with his narrative, Curufin defiantly met the gaze of his elder brother, arms crossed across his chest.

"Have you told me all?" Maedhros demanded, his eyes steely.

As his copper-haired brother loomed over him, Curufin felt his chest tighten with fear. Although Maedhros was a half-head taller than he, it suddenly seemed as if the older elf was had at least a five foot advantage. Clenching his fists and his jaw, Curufin met his brother's eyes and nodded shortly, hoping the lie did not show upon his face. It had always been difficult to lie to Maedhros, for after helping to raise six younger brothers, he was adept at uncovering falsehoods.

"I wonder," Maedhros said slowly, eyes narrowed.

Before Curufin could react his jaw was gripped by strong fingers and tilted upward so Maedhros could look deep into his eyes. Like a hunted animal, Curufin held absolutely still, not daring to breath, hoping the predator before him would not strike. The tickling sensation in the back of his mind warned him of what was to happen and he gasped and attempted to wrench out of his brother's grasp. But Maedhros would not be thwarted and Curufin felt the grip on his jaw tighten as his mind was invaded by another's presence.

Curufin desperately tried to shield his mind from his brother's scrutiny, but Maedhros slid under his defenses and pulled up the memories of Curufin's time at Nargothrond and his subsequent flight. Everything Curufin had done, Maedhros now saw. Thankfully, it did not take long for Maedhros to find what he wanted and Curufin inhaled sharply as Maedhros retreated swiftly from his mind. The older Elf released his brother's jaw and staggered back, overwhelmed for a moment by the onslaught of Curufin's memories.

Curufin was panting as if he had run for a long distance and his body trembled like a leaf in the breeze. Bracing himself with one hand against the wall, he turned savagely on Maedhros.

"Happy now, _brother_?" he snarled.

Maedhros, however, was not deterred in the least by his brother's furious demeanor and he hissed back at Curufin, "How could you?!"

Curufin gave a hollow laugh. "How could I what? You will have to be more specific. After all, there is so much."

"You sent your own cousin to his death!" Maedhros growled. "Now you truly have the blood of your own kin upon your hands!"

"We were not at fault," Curufin said defensively. "He brought his own doom upon himself."

"Without your betrayal it would not have happened!" Maedhros closed his eyes in horror. "Ai, brother, what have you done?"

"Only what was necessary to advance our quest for the Silmarils," Curufin said.

Maedhros rounded on him. "You have harmed our cause, not advanced it you fool! Who now will trust a son of Feanor? You have definitively shown that the House of Feanor is a House of treachery and deceit, even unto the betrayal of its own kin. Finrod was beloved by all, the fairest and wisest of the princes of the Eldalie, and a mighty ally. With his strength gone, we are weakened."

 The sigh that left his lips conveyed years of pain and bone-deep weariness, and he bowed his head, hair falling about his face in a copper curtain.

"I had hoped to gather an alliance of the Elven kingdoms to assault Morgoth," he said slowly, "but now that it is almost certain Nargothrond will not answer my call, I do not know if we can succeed. Turgon disappeared years ago and none know now where he and his people dwell and Thingol is unlikely to give aid to the slayers of his kin, nor the abductors of his daughter." He glared at Curufin. "That leaves only Fingon and perhaps Cirdan of the Havens, along with the Men that have pledged themselves to us."

"Do not forget the Naugrim," Curufin said in a low voice. "They could be persuaded to march upon Morgoth."

"Perhaps," Maedhros said, eyes hardening as he raised his head to meet his brother's gaze, "but nothing is certain and you have just increased the troubles of our people tenfold by your treachery and deceit."

Curufin, lowered his gaze, chastened, but inside he bridled at his brother's tone. Maedhros might be the leader of the House of Feanor, but he could not dictate to his brothers in this manner.

"At least I have not forgotten our Father and the Oath we swore!" he cried out. "You seem to have forgotten who we are and why we came. You gave away the high kingship that rightfully belongs to our House, you placate those lesser than us, and yet you act as if you have a right to rule your brothers."

"I. Have. Not. Forgotten." Maedhros bit off each word. "How dare you speak such words to me?"

He lifted his right arm, letting the sleeve of his tunic fall back to reveal the scar that marked the place where his hand had been severed. "How can I forget when the reminder of my torment upon Thangorodrim has been seared upon my skin? No one hates Morgoth more than I, and I will work ever towards his defeat."

His stormy gaze bored into Curufin until the younger Elf was forced to look away. "Do not presume to understand what you cannot, Curufinwe Atarinke."

Curufin shrank from Maedhros's scornful pronunciation of his full name in the High Tongue, feeling shame for one of the few times in his life. He had not meant to be quite so scathing in his attack. He knew Maedhros was ever loyal to their father and would not forsake the Oath no matter what his feelings on the matter, but it was too late to take back the words and he remained silent.

Maedhros's breath came in short, sharp bursts as he attempted to rein in his temper and he closed his eyes for a moment, evening out his breathing. Tiredly rubbing his left temple, he opened his eyes and calmly addressed Curufin.

"I will speak no more of Finrod, but perhaps you would like to explain to me why you thought you had the right to abduct one of our people and force her into marriage?"

"Think of it, Maedhros," Curufin said, his voice soothing and persuasive in an attempt to ward off further conflict. "With our House bound to Thingol's, we would have a formidable power at our disposal. An alliance with Doriath would have helped immensely in our battle against Morgoth. Is not Melian a Maia and Thingol one of the Unbegotten? Their power together must be great indeed and if it could be brought to bear against Morgoth we might indeed fell the Enemy."

Maedhros's eyes flashed. "Do not try to weave your spell of words around me, Curufin, for it will not sway me. Celegorm acted on base lust in his pursuit of Luthien's hand. A lust for beauty and a lust for power. It disgusts me that my own brother would behave in such a fashion."

_So this is how it is to be then_, Curufin thought, seething. _You wish to engage in a battle of words with me, brother? So be it_.

"Celegorm and I have ever worked towards the recovery of the Silmarils and the advancement of our House," Curufin said heatedly. "But you? You are still half a slave to the Valar. From the beginning you hesitated, shying back from what had to be done.* It is a wonder Father allowed you to become the leader of our House."

"And what of your experiences with your own son?" Maedhros retorted, stung by Curufin's words. "Yes, brother, you have done a fine job. Not only does he refuse to come with you, but he repudiates you and all your deeds. How must it feel to have your own _son _disown you?"

Curufin's flinch was barely perceptible, but Maedhros's keen eyes saw it and he smiled grimly. "Ah, so perhaps there is something yet that can touch your heart of metal and stone. Or do you not regret the loss of your son but rather the loss of one who could have been a useful tool in your all-consuming quest to regain the Silmarils?"

Curufin's swing was wild and Maedhros easily caught his younger brother's fist before the blow could land.

"Do not speak of him so!" Curufin raged, struggling against his brother's grip. "He is my son! He will return to me!"

"He will not, Curufin," Maedhros said grimly, holding tightly to the struggling Elf. "He will not return."

The words unlocked something deep inside Curufin and to his horror he felt tears well and spill over and soon he was giving great wrenching sobs, face buried in his brother's chest. 

Maedhros was shocked at first, but he could not help but feel a great swell of pity for the raven-haired Elf clinging to him, weeping with pain and sorrow. He stroked Curufin's head, whispering soothing words to him in the High Tongue, hoping to calm the younger Elf. It was so unlike Curufin to give into emotional displays. His younger brother was often difficult to fathom, showing the world only what he wished it to see and nothing more. 

Curufin did not know why Maedhros's words had finally shattered his carefully controlled façade, but now that he wept, he could not seem to cease. _Tears unnumbered ye shall shed._ This was what he had feared. That if he began to weep, he would never be able to stop. He wept for so many things. For himself, his brothers, his son, the sorrows of an age, and this idiotic, pointless existence they were all forced to endure. He felt his body would have been torn apart by the great wrenching sobs which wracked his frame if it were not for the solid, steadying presence of his brother. 

Finally, though, Curufin mastered himself, releasing a great shuddering sigh as the tears finally ceased. Furiously scrubbing away the tears upon his face, he stepped out of his brother's embrace with some embarrassment, cursing his weakness.

"I apologize for my loss of control," he said, voice roughened from weeping.

Maedhros shook his head. "Do not apologize, Curufin. Contrary to what you believe, it is not weakness to show emotion."

"I thank you for your comfort, Maedhros," Curufin said stiffly, "but I cannot afford to lose control of myself in such a manner. I assure you it will not happen again."

Maedhros did not reply to that, but stepped closer to his brother and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I am sorry about your son, brother," he murmured, "but take comfort in the knowledge that he is safe and well."

_Not for long with that fool, Orodreth, as king._ But Curufin did not voice that thought aloud and merely nodded in acknowledgement.

Maedhros hesitated a moment. "I am most displeased with your actions of late, Curufin, but know that you are always welcome at Himring. I will never turn my brothers away."

Noting the careful wording, Curufin couldn't help one last question, hating himself as he asked it. "Is that all? Do I disgust you so much that you cannot even say you love me as you once did?"

Maedhros paused, his hand on the door, and turned to look at Curufin, his gray eyes holding pain and an ocean of regret.

"Nay, brother, I do not love you. For how can I love you if I cannot love myself?"

Curufin had no answer to that and he bowed his head as the door clicked shut behind Maedhros. 

_For how can I love you if I cannot love myself?_

_You cannot_, he answered silently. _And neither can I_.

*Curufin is referring to Losgar where Maedhros stood aside and would not aid in the burning of the ships.


End file.
